— South I see. You're up-in-Leal-Ulster and I'm-free-Down- in-Easia, this is much better. He is cured by faith who is sick of fate. The prouts who will invent a writing there ultimately is the poeta, still more learned, who discovered the … [Continuar leyendo]

    — Hooshin hom to our regional's hin and the gander of Hayden. Would ye ken a young stepschuler of psychical chiro- graphy, the name of Keven, or (let outers pray) Evan Vaughan, of his Posthorn in the High Street, that was … [Continuar leyendo]

  — Breeze softly. Aures are aureas. Hau's his naun? — Me das has or oreils. Piercey, piercey, piercey, piercey! — White eyeluscious and muddyhorsebroth! Pig Pursyriley! But where do we get off, chiseller? — Haltstille, Lucas and … [Continuar leyendo]